Lapiz Lazuli: Saving Jade
by Brambelle
Summary: Jade hates her new life at Heartland. She isn't even trusted to groom a horse unsupervised, and is forbidden to go to the stables without permission from Amy. She thinks nobody can feel as stranded and lonely as she does, until Lapiz arrives at the yard..


_She whinnied; the sound reverberated through the air. No response. She was alone. It was not a nice prospect. The whole barn appeared ominous, an air of tension hanging like a thick blanket over everything, and she could just about make out a spiked bridle hanging in one dark corner. Slowly, she began to scrape her hoof against the ground._

_Her coal-black head was held high and stiff in the air, and her slender legs were tense, ready to bolt if anyone approached. The mare had watched horses come and go here, whilst she stood and watched, being ignored. Watched, as riders came along carrying whips, the objects that would sting for a few minutes but break a spirit for a lifetime._

_It could only be a matter of time before her turn came._

I still dream about her. Not that fateful day at the Colorado National Equitation Awards, but as the proud, stately mare with her head down, grazing in the paddock. Or maybe the bold, brave eventer, galloping furiously across the cross-country course, taking jump after jump in her stride. Even as the small, wild filly cowering in the back of her under-sized stall at the slaughter auctions, eyes wide in her beautiful copper face. Because that's what she was, that's the word that best describes her. _Beautiful._

I'm sorry, I had better explain. My name is Jade, Jade Tattersall, and I was once a well-known up-and-coming eventer. My horse was a bay Quarab mare, rescued by me from the slaughter auctions. She was a three-year-old, stricken and coated with mud, but she had something special about her. Star quality, I suppose.

So I bought her, I backed her and I brought her on, and then I began to compete. I named my mare Estrangelo Edessa, after a typeface on Microsoft Word, because I think it's a very pretty font and a very pretty name. However, as Estrangelo Edessa was really too long a name to use around the barn, I nicknamed her Edie. I think she liked that.

You may have noticed that I refer to her in past tense. That's because of what happened next, at the Colorado National Equitation Awards. We made a fantastic score of just twenty-two in the dressage section, a lower score than some of the four-star eventers competing in events like Kentucky and Badminton. Then, with a stylish clear round at a flat-out gallop over the cross-country, we were placed first on the leaderboard. If we brought our A-game to the showjumping, victory was ours. And we did.

We had a really good pace, leaping clear easily over the first vertical fence. Edie lived for the cross-country, but she also enjoyed racing over jumps. Her eyes gleamed with a spirit I just never really saw in the dressage arena. We hit the ground running, following that up by arcing over a synthetic red brick wall, two more brightly-coloured verticals and a Swedish oxer.

Each jump was taken with Edie's trademark flair of style, as was the next fence-a leap over a smaller jump and across a tray of water. So many people had encountered spooks and shies here, but my gorgeous mare just took it in her stride and soared proudly over it.

It was then that things went wrong. I fed her the reins slightly until we were blurring towards the final hogsback jump, and she responded perfectly. I could feel her quivering, about to take off and fly over it to complete our round, and at what a speed. Then I could hear a wet thudding sound, and a shockwave seemed to shiver right through her. I realised what it was. A strike injury.

But it was too late now, and she was already taking off, trying valiantly to throw herself over it. It was no use. She came down into the fence, twisting and turning in agony. I was knocked into a coma, and the accident was too much for Edie. She was put to sleep.

So, that's me, and this is my story. This is why I'm being sent to some horse farm, out in the state of Virginia, far away from my home state of Colorado. This is why I'm going to learn natural horsemanship, why I'm leaning back in the seats of the car trying to stop the tears running down my cheeks, the chauffeur completely indifferent to the occasional heaving sobs. This is where my story begins, in the rolling roads and hills of Virginia.


End file.
